


Defenseless

by PinkRangerV



Category: Power Rangers, Power Rangers Dino Thunder
Genre: A Test Of Trust, Alternate Universe, Fix-It, Gen, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 03:11:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkRangerV/pseuds/PinkRangerV
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In another world, A Test Of Trust goes very differently, and Trent is left without a morpher--and defenseless not only against Mesegog, but his own teammates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Defenseless

**Author's Note:**

> It's always bugged me that a) Tommy NEVER ADDRESSED the major trust issues around the team, Trent's 'evil' run, or anything else to help the DT team psychologically cope with being conscripted into a war, and b) Tommy, upon learning one of his teammates was an idiot, nearly left him defenseless--and didn't even bother owning the decision! He put it on the shoulders of the YOUNGEST AND MOST EMOTIONAL TEAM MEMBERS! Trent's reaction was an entirely realistic one to a parent who'd done something illegal, and punishing him by stripping him of his defenses was ridiculous.
> 
> Thus, I wrote a fix-it fic.

More and more these days, Trent found himself alone.

It wasn't that the others were _excluding_ him exactly, just that, well, Trent couldn't handle too many 'traitor' or 'liar' comments. He shouldn't try to run away, he knew. He just...was weak.

Had _always_ been weak.

Trent shivered at the memories—brightness, so bright in his mind, so wild and cold and snarling, like a monster unleashed—and sidestepped a large brush. He couldn't see anything on the ground. Maybe Devon had ended up throwing the football into a tree nearer the school. Same trajectory, but it would have ended more qui--

Trent punched before he was aware of it.

His father caught his wrist and twisted it up, trapping Trent and covering his mouth with a hand. “Trent. _Trent_. I'm not going to hurt you.”

Trent relaxed. Cautiously.

Anton let him go.

Trent pulled away. “Dad? What are you doing here?” He should scream and warn the others...should he? Would they even come? What if Anton got away first? They'd think he was lying, trying to get attention...

“What, can't I talk to my son every now and then?” Anton said with something approaching a smile. There was sadness in it. There always was. “How are you doing, Trent? Good grades, I trust?”

It was suspicious, but Trent nodded anyway. He could stall if he had to. “Yeah. Pretty good. Why are you out _here_?” Was Mesegog attacking? Was this a distraction? Mesegog didn't know he was off the team, it could get dangerous, Trent had almost wanted to scream that once or twice but then it would just turn into a conversation about how it was his fault again, and anyway, Dr. O knew it was dangerous, right? They had a plan, right?

“The principal said I could find you here.” Anton was more than a bit hard to read, but Trent could catch some...fondness, almost, beneath his expression. Peaceful enough. Not an attack, then. “I thought I'd take you out to lunch, if you're not too busy.”

“Are you?” Trent asked bluntly. Because dining with Mesegog, even Mesegog's mind in his father's body, wasn't on his priority list.

...Wait. He shouldn't go _at all_.

“Wait. Never mind. I just remembered, I, uh, have to help Cassidy with the homecoming committee.” Trent nearly winced at his own lie, but it was all he could do. He couldn't go with his father. He had to avoid him. Had to prove he was worth being a Ranger. It was his father or the Rangers; he'd have to choose the Rangers. It was the right thing to do. The only thing to do.

Anton frowned. “Homecoming committee? Since when is that more important then spending time with family?”

“Bad grades.” Trent blurted. “I was, uh, I failed a paper and, uh...”

Anton raised an eyebrow.

Trent was caught, helpless, so he just blurted out, “I'm sorry. I have stuff to do, okay?” He turned and walked away, then paused. “Maybe...maybe later.”

_I'm sorry, Dad. I'm so so sorry._

“All right.” Anton said mildly. “I understand. I'll see you later, son.”

“You too.” Trent lied.

He prayed it wasn't that much of one.

 

* * *

 

By the time he'd reached the Cyberspace, the only thing Trent could think was that he'd been an utter idiot.

Why had he said _no_ of all things? The Rangers knew who he was now—what if they just killed him in the middle of the night? What if he fell in battle? Anton might only have a few more months to live, and Trent was just _giving up_ on saying _goodbye_?

What kind of monster was he turning _into_?

“Trent!”

Trent snapped out of his thoughts and glanced over his shoulder at Haley who was gesturing at a tray irritably. Trent winced and nodded. “Be right there, sorry!”

He stopped wiping down the table and grabbed the tray, reading his notepad. Conner, Kira, Ethan, Devon, Dr. O. Trent tracked them around the cafe. Kira and Cassidy were having a verbal sparring match over an English assignment, Conner was doodling on an edge of the posterboard and glancing at Cassidy's lower-than-usual shirt, Ethan and Devon were having a gaming bout, and Dr. O was grading. He was closest, so Trent walked up to him and handed him the smoothie.

He wasn't grading. Trent only caught a glimpse of the notebook on Dr. O's lap, but it was some kind of character profile, with his name at the top. Red marks were all over it.

Dr. O pulled it away.

Trent wanted to say something, then thought better of it and moved on.

“Everything okay?” Haley asked when Trent gave her the empty tray.

Of course not, but he didn't even consider saying anything. The Rangers were his family now. You didn't tattle on family or tell others when they hurt you. Ever.

“Yeah, everything's fine.”

 

* * *

 

Dr. O knocked on the guest room door, then walked in to check that the window was locked.

Trent had been staying there a week. Dr. Oliver hadn't even let him go home for a change of clothes; he'd driven back to Trent's house alone and gotten enough of Trent's things to last him a while. Which was nice, but Trent missed some of his keepsakes from his birth parents, and he'd never even think of asking Dr. O to go back.

He was also slightly wierded out by the way Dr. O kept checking his window was locked, but then, Dr. O had been a Ranger a long time. Maybe he was just worried and didn't know how to show it?

Dr. O glanced at the laptop Trent was on. “That had better not be porn.”

...Okay, Trent was going to go die of embarrassment now. “You did _not_ just ask me that.”

“Just checking.” Dr. O said. He swept out, paused at the door as if to say something, thought better of it, and vanished.

Trent fell backwards and just tried to pretend that had _never_ happened. Good lord, adults all had brain damage.

“...here. I can't _read_ him, Haley.”

“He's not trying to...”

Trent frowned and opened his eyes.

“...know he's not. It's just...frustrating.” Dr. O's voice faded out again.

Trent knew better than to eavesdrop. He just...didn't quite stop listening. But it wasn't like he was sneaking around, either. Dr. O and Haley must've been arguing in the living room, and at night the house was dead silent.

“So let's say you're right.” Haley said, apparently giving up on the psuedo-whispering they'd been doing before. They must have thought Trent was asleep or not paying attention. “If Trent's really a spy for Mesegog, why's he being so cooperative?”

“That's the thing!” Dr. O protested, sounding completely frustrated. “I don't know! I don't know if it's normal or if he's spying or what! Half the time I barely know where he is!”

“That's ridiculous, he follows all of you around like a shadow.” Haley snapped. “At least until someone starts sniping at him.”

“Look, I can't stop the kids--”

“Bullshit you can't. They shouldn't be taking potshots.”

“From _not trusting him_.” Dr. O said coldly.

“Well, you can damn well stop them from bullying him over it!” Haley snapped. There was quiet for a minute. “I'm sorry. I just...I hate seeing you all torn apart like this.”

“I know. Me too.”

More quiet. “I should go home.” Haley said, more quietly. “I have dishes to do.”

“Yeah, at least someone's helping me with the housework now.”

Haley snickered. “I told you, promise the others cookies and they'll clean until the place shines.”

“Ha ha. Good night.”

“Night.”

The front door opened and shut. Dr. Oliver walked around. Trent lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling and nothing was happening, of course not.

He wasn't a traitor. He'd prove it.

 

* * *

 

A battle.

The first since Trent had been taken off the team. Trent didn't know what to do. His fingers twitched but his morpher was gone, and the others morphed and ran off before he could do anything.

This was his punishment, he realized. To be alone.

He looked at Haley. “Can I help?”

“Nope.” Haley muttered, already in battle-mode. “Not right now, coding work.” She blinked and seemed to realize he was there. “Oh. Uh...”

“It's fine.” Trent knew the feeling of immersing yourself in your art. He wouldn't interrupt that for Haley. “That's your thing. Go for it. I'll just...watch.”

Haley smiled and dove into her work.

She was right, of course. The work was far too complicated for Trent to even attempt, and Trent didn't want to interrupt that state. He tried sitting on the steps to watch, but that just made him fidgety. He glanced at Haley, then got up and went upstairs. Maybe walking around for a few minutes would help.

Trent walked out to the back porch, then off it, into the woods. Not far. He wouldn't go out of sight of the house. He just...needed to distract himself. Maybe he could work out? That might distract him, just work himself into exhaustion...he could climb a tree, too. Trent glanced at the trees around him, branches far too high to try.

Someone snapped a twig.

Trent dropped into a fighting stance, scanning the woods, and then his father stumbled through, covered in blood and panting. “ _Dad_?” Trent demanded, running over to him and reaching out.

“Stay away!” Anton almost shouted, shoving Trent. “Don't--” He doubled over, groaning.

Was he transforming? Trent dropped to his knees. “Dad, you're hurt!”

“Get away...Rangers...they'll think you're...helping me...” Anton panted before biting back a scream of pain.

He was right, Trent realized. It would only make him look more like a traitor to help Anton.

...So he _wouldn't_ help him.

Trent backed away, reaching into his pocket. Dr. O made him carry a communicator now. “Guys, I found my dad. He's hurt.”

_“Get awa--_ ” Dr. O started.

“Haley,” Trent ran over Dr. O, a grin spreading across his face, “If I get him to the basement can you knock him out?”

Silence.

_“...Yeah. I can. Get him down here, then.”_ Haley said.

_“Good work, Trent.”_ Dr. O said. _“Black out_.”

Trent could have danced with joy.

 

* * *

 

The Rangers were almost awed when they returned ( _they_ , no _him_ in it, Trent tried not to shout how _wrong_ it felt to be apart from his team like that), quietly staring at the patched-up mad scientist that Tommy was expertly restraining.

It took Trent a few minutes to figure out they were shooting him odd looks as well.

Trent went upstairs, grabbed some carrots, and headed off to the guest room. Not to sulk. Of course. Because that would be ridiculous. He just didn't want to talk to anyone right now. Except on the internet.

Trent shouldn't have been surprised that he got a few solid hours alone. No one seemed to want to be near him much lately. He was a bit worried when he realized it, though. Was everyone really _that_ busy? Was something wrong?

He walked down the stairs to find absolutely nothing. It was like the entire place was deserted. Trent shivered. It was creepy as hell. He went over to the trapdoor.

It was stuck.

...That was not good. Trent examined the trapdoor. It looked _jammed_ , like something had smashed it. Trent couldn't quite tell what. He sighed, focused, and _yanked_. It budged the stuck metal a little. Trent sighed and kept yanking, over and over, until it finally popped free and almost knocked him on his butt. He scurried down. “Guys! Hey, what happened to the door, are you—“

He fell silent.

The Rangers were all pointing weapons at him, morphed, with Haley unconscious and Anton gone. “Are you guys okay?” Trent asked cautiously. Rangers were not always good. He needed to remember this.

“Oh, we're _fine_.” Kira snapped.

“What about you? Still feeling a little homicidal?” Ethan demanded.

“...What the heck are you talking about?” Trent asked, totally nonplussed and slightly creeped out. “How'd the door get jammed? Why are you morphed?”

“You didn't hear?” Dr. Oliver asked, in a calm, quiet tone that Trent had only ever heard him use on Mesegog before.

“Hear what? I was in the guest room.” Trent glanced around. Wait. The Lair...it was a _mess_. And the walls...

The walls had claw marks.

“He escaped, didn't he.” No. _No_. Trent had—he'd have _heard_ that! Even if the room was soundproof, he should have...

Why hadn't he _heard_ it?

“Ya think?” Conner snarked.

“But I'd have heard it! You left the trapdoor open!” Trent stared wildly around. “How...how could I not...”

“Great question.” Dr. Oliver said, still calmly. “Maybe you can answer it for us.” The Brachio Staff was suddenly at Trent's throat. It hummed with energy, energy that whispered _teammate, guardian_. It was almost sickeningly ironic. “Where were you?”

“In...in the guest room. On my laptop.” Trent was nearly shaking now. He couldn't defend himself. Not without a morpher. Dr. Oliver had a weapon at his throat and he couldn't defend himself and he _didn't want to fight him!_

“Nice try.” Conner said.

“Yeah, Dr. Mercer? He's a shitty liar.” Ethan added. “You were out there. Helping him.”

“I guess family means a lot to you.” Kira said quietly. Disgusted. Angry.

It clicked then.

He wasn't going to win this. He'd never earn their trust. He'd never earn even his morpher again, much less friendship. They _would_ hurt him, _would_ kill him, because when the chips were down _he was not one of them_.

Which left him with very few options.

“I didn't do it.” Trent said softly. “I promise. Guys. Please, believe me. I would _never_ willingly hurt you.”

The other teens snorted. Dr. Oliver just asked, softly, “Like when you lied to us, Trent?”

Trent took a slow breath. “Please.” It wasn't begging. He just needed them to stand down. He had to get out of the house without them hurting him, and that involved either them standing down, or them getting hurt. He really, really didn't like the second option. “I know I did something horrible. You can't imagine how sorry I am. But I would _never_ try to hurt--”

“Stop. Lying.”

Trent would never know what came over him then. He was still resisting even the idea of fighting teammates, of hurting people he cared about, but somehow he ducked under the staff and nailed Dr. Oliver in the stomach with his elbow, giving him just enough room to grab the staff and knock the others away before dropping the staff and fleeing.

He actually got away.

 

* * *

 

Sleeping in the forest hadn't been the best idea, Trent knew. Problem was, it was his only one. He didn't have money for a hotel, didn't have a way to get home or the morpher to survive staying there, and going back was out of the question. He was safest curled up in the roots of a tree, where his body heat would keep him from outright freezing until morning.

Hopefully.

Still, Trent managed to fall into first a light doze, then a heavier, dreamless sleep, something that didn't take away the cold but helped manage it a little. He was aware, finally, of warmth, of what felt like a blanket. Maybe it was just hypothermia killing him, but Trent smiled and snuggled into the very comfortable, warm fabric.

When arms picked him up, Trent tried to open his eyes...

_...why? It's nice here. Nice and safe. Shhh, sleep..._

...and slept.

He woke up slowly and almost comfortably, until he realized he was strapped to the freaky dentist's chair in Mesegog's lab. He was going to end up phobic of dentists before this was over. Trent tested the bonds, but they held. His Ranger strength was already wearing off.

“Welcome baaack.”

Trent had to stop himself from screaming like a girl. When his heart rate settled down to something halfway normal, he glanced behind him. Mesegog. Just great. “What do _you_ want?” He spat.

“Youuu.” Well, that wasn't disturbing or anything. “Your _Ranger_ friendssss have...abandonedyou.” Mesegog trailed his claw along Trent's face, not nicking Trent but close enough to make Trent flinch. “Leftyou...todiiie.”

“No they didn't!” Trent started hotly. “They just...”

“Jusssst _what_?”

Trent had no retort for that. _Just were scared of me. Just thought I was a traitor. Just morphed and aimed weapons at me and probably would have attacked me if I hadn't..._

_No. They wouldn't have hurt me. I was scared and being a baby and I ran off like the idiot I am. They love me._

“I scared them.” Trent said. Didn't help his pride much, but he'd caused this. He had to suck it up and start taking responsibility for his own actions.

“Reeaallly.” Mesegog said. “Do you know _whhhy_ they thought youwere...atraiiitor?” Trent had a horrible sinking feeling. “I told them ssso.”

Trent _yanked_ against the straps holding him down, suddenly furious. “You _bastard_! This is _your_ fault!” God, he was _furious_ , wanted nothing more than to take the bastard that had taken his father and his free will and his _team_ from him by the neck and _strangle_ him to death--

Mesegog struck him across the face. Trent blinked the stars away from his vision and tried not to grimace at the pain on his cheek.

“Thhey hhhateyou...onthe word of their _eeeenemyyyy_.” Mesegog hissed. He grabbed Trent's chin and forced Trent to look him in the eye. “You hhhave no friendssss, Trent. Only meee.”

Maybe Trent should have fought back, but he couldn't.

Mesegog was right. The walking scum of the Earth had a _point_. They _didn't_ like Trent. They never would. It was a one-way street; it was the time Trent had fallen in love with Anna from next door and she hadn't been interested in him; it was the time Trent had tried to make friends with Smitty, who'd worked with his parents, and been shooed away; friendship was something only _he_ wanted.

The other Rangers hated him.

Mesegog let go. “Your fathhher...begged for your pathetic liiife.” Mesegog informed him. “Ssaaid you never...betrayyedmeee. Iam...generoussss. I willnot...iiignoreevidencce. And you...donot need to be turned. Not anymore.”

Trent knew where this was going.

“Joiiin meee.”

He closed his eyes.

“No.”

Mesegog struck him again. “Fool!” He actually shouted. Trent hadn't known he could. “Do you thhhhink...theywill ever _care_? Even iffI...thhrewyour lifelesss corpssseat thhem thhey would hhhate you! Youwillnot...sssuffer for them! Iwill...killyou and feedyouto the Tyrannodronessss!”

Trent kept his eyes shut until there had been silence for a few seconds, then opened them again. Carefully.

“Iassssk....once more.” Mesegog said. “Joiiin meee...and liiive.”

Trent could see it.

He could see the kill strike, quick, easy. Could see the Tyrannodrones...okay, didn't want to see that, it was gross. Could see Dr. O and Conner and Ethan and Kira looking out for him in paranoia, even after Mesegog was gone, and slowly being the only people to remember his name...

And then forgetting him, until he was just the White Ranger, just a name they knew in high school.

Shouldn't he be ready for that? Wasn't that the price for the Dino Gem? For being a Ranger? The price of all the honor and glory of a morpher...

Why couldn't he pay it?

“I will.”

Mesegog hissed in pleasure, and hit the release for the bonds holding Trent down. Trent got up cautiously, testing his body. “Kneel.” Mesegog hissed.

Trent knelt.

He thought he could feel himself losing his soul.

 

* * *

 

The brainwashing room wasn't actually that bad. Not compared to what was in Trent's head. The pain and darkness weighed him down like armor that was too heavy.

The sequence ended, and Trent opened his eyes.

He didn't know how long it had been. The brainwashing room relied on gas-based drugs and holograms—ineffective as it was, it had destroyed his internal clock if nothing else. But the next sequence wasn't queuing up, so maybe Mesegog would let him out now. He still didn't want to hurt his team, but he was so bored even bank robbery sounded like a better alternative than a constant pseudo-acid trip.

The door opened.

Possibly a hologram, but Trent got up anyway. Elsa shoved Dr. Oliver in viciously, grinned at Trent, then chirped, “You boys have fun now!” Before shutting the door.

Trent watched cautiously.

Dr. Oliver stared at him.

“Are you a hologram?” Trent asked. They usually couldn't talk, even when he'd seen faces.

“Green I, White I, Red IV, Black VI.” Dr. Oliver rattled off. It was the Ranger code to distinguish a real Ranger from someone else—to rattle off the exact _numerical_ rank they took or had taken. “What are you? A Tyrannodrone?”

“White IV.” Trent responded. So they were both real. It...it didn't seem to make any sense. Why were they both in here?

The gas started.

...Dr. Oliver was the real Dr. Oliver.

Trent punched him in the face.

Dr. Oliver started attacking, but Trent could give as good as he got, could _kill_ after being in here, after _losing everything_ , and he _wanted_ to see Dr. Oliver _fucking bleed_.

“What is _wrong_ with you?” Dr. Oliver shouted. “Trent! It's _me_! Stop it!”

“Why should I?” Trent shouted back. “You aren't my friend! You aren't my teammate! And you made that pretty damn clear when you were _aiming! Weapons! At! Me!_ ”

Dr. Oliver jumped away, then growled. “Trent. Stop, _now_.” He shook his head. “There's dark in me, Trent. I can only contain it so long--”

“So. What.”

Dr. Oliver stared.

“Why the _fuck_ do I care.” Trent growled. “Why do I give a _flying shit_ whether _you_ are having a bad day. Whether _you_ have some 'darkness' in you. The _only_ thing I want right now from you is _you to scream_.”

That...that felt _good_ to say. Part of Trent _marveled_ at it, but the rest of him was stalking up to Dr. Oliver fully intent on making this man, this man who had _hurt him_ , pay, pay with every damn thing he had. Fully intent on _unleashing_ his anger, his pain--

Dr. Oliver faked.

Trent had the technique of an ape, but he had raw, unchanneled strength, the boredom of far too long spent imprisoned, and pain-fueled rage. He landed blow after blow before Dr. Oliver's eyes glowed green and Dr. Oliver seemed to _change_.

It felt so good, for a minute, to fight against someone who could withstand him. Then his feet went out from under him and he got hit on the head, hard, and Dr. Oliver was holding him up, restraining him, and saying, “Trent...goddamnit, what did he _do_ to you?”

“ _You did this to me_!”

Dr. Oliver dropped Trent. Trent scrambled away, his eyes blurring from the blow to the head. “This wasn't him! It was _you_! _You_ took my morpher, _you_ and my _team_ decided you hated me, _you would have killed me and that left me helpless_!”

Dr. Oliver just blinked.

“I don't...” Trent shook his head. “Whatever you did. Wherever you lived. I don't know what family you had, but here on Planet Reality, _family_ means _you love them_. No. Matter. What. You don't tattle on them, you don't hurt them--”

“Don't fight them?” Dr. Oliver asked.

“No.” Trent's voice was almost a whisper now, furious and low and controlled, and he was losing control but...but it wasn't. He felt like an artist of death. “You fight. If I had to, I would have held my blaster to Dad's head and pulled the trigger, because that was the _right thing to do_. But you _never_ hurt them unless there is _no other way_.”

Dr. Oliver considered him.

“Ohana means family.” It was _Lilo and Stitch_ of all things, but they all quoted it, all the time, to mean each other. “And family means no one gets left behind.”

“I didn't.” Dr. Oliver said. Calmly, almost. “Trent, listen to me. You lied to us. We needed to trust you.”

“Oh, because anyone trusted me _before_ that?” Trent snapped. He wanted a weapon—no, the urge faded almost as quickly as it had come. He wanted to strangle this bastard with his bare hands. “Because I _wasn't_ always the loner? Face it, Dr. Oliver. Kira liked me, but none of you trusted me. Not even her. And you, you can barely _look_ at me sometimes! I can't earn your trust because you wouldn't ever have given it to me in the first place!”

Dr. Oliver raised an eyebrow. “We trusted you, Trent. We let you into the Lair, let you keep your morpher--”

“I'm sorry, _what_?” Trent snapped. “You _let_ me keep my morpher? Are you telling me you would have left me _completely fucking defenseless_ when _Mesegog was out to kill me_?”

“We could have protected you.”

“How?” Trent demanded. Hmm, shanking Dr. Oliver was looking tempting, too. “Lock me in my room and ne...”

_Dr. O knocked on the guest room door, then walked in to check that the window was locked._

“...That's what you were doing, wasn't it.” Trent realized. “You were locking me in. Every night. You didn't even trust me to stay put so Mesegog didn't capture me.” Trent looked at Dr. Oliver and almost gaped. “Did you really think I was _that_ stupid?”

“You were a few days ago.”

“ _You were trying to fucking kill me_!” Trent bellowed.

Dr. Oliver actually took a step back.

“I'm _not_ part of your team! I never _have_ been! I was just the back-up, the extra weapon!” Trent ranted. “That's all I was to you! So excuse me if I'm a little pissed off that you say _I_ haven't earned _your_ trust!”

“Or your own.”

Trent blinked. “...What?” It was probably the first thing he'd said in a normal tone for a good fifteen minutes.

“You don't trust yourself either.” Dr. Oliver said, meeting Trent's eyes, suddenly more confident. “That's why you didn't tell us. Why you never said anything when the others called you names. Because you don't trust yourself after what happened.”

“I didn't say anything because I thought I was about to get thrown into foster care again.” Trent said bluntly.

Dr. Oliver looked startled. “What? Trent, no, you—I brought you to my house to keep you _safe_ , not toss you in--”

“How would I know?” Trent demanded, frustrated. “I'm only a teammate, and you threw me off the team! And yeah, I know, it's my fault! I get it, and I'm sorry. And I wanted to stay, okay? I wanted to let you punish me, because I know I deserved it. But I...” Trent shut his eyes. “I can't die. Not...fuck it.” The anger was wearing down now, and something worse was sinking in. “I _know_ it's wrong.” He managed. “But I can't die for you. That's why I'm alive now. I know I shouldn't be. I'm sorry.”

“Trent.” Dr. Oliver said quietly, walking closer. Trent's fighting stance got tighter. “Don't _ever_ apologize for wanting to live.” Dr. Oliver told him, stopping close enough to be in Trent's strike range. “Ever.”

Trent just snorted. “It's true.” He was whispering. “That's what you need. To trust me. For me to get hurt or die for me. But I can't do it. I know it's the right thing to do, but--”

“Trent!” Trent fell silent automatically.

Dr. Oliver hugged him.

Trent punched him in the kidney, getting enough space to start actually attacking, because this, this was, he was going to _kill_ Dr. Oliver, and...Dr. Oliver caught the next punches, finally twisting Trent around into a hold.

Trent couldn't get free. No matter how much he struggled, Dr. Oliver had him firmly.

“Trent.” Dr. Oliver said in the Black Ranger, Commander of the Dino Rangers tone. “Listen to me right now. You do _not_ need to die. Do you understand me?”

“Then what do you _want_?” Trent almost screamed.

Dr. Oliver fell silent.

Trent fought, but it was pretty useless. The door banged open, and Dr. Oliver's hold vanished. “Together!” Dr. Oliver shouted. “Fight later!”

“Aww, but it was just getting to the good part.” Elsa snarked.

Trent barely cared anymore. He just wanted to kill. He leaped at the Tyrannodrones, roaring, and literally tore the first one's head off. He heard blasterfire and didn't care.

Something caught him and threw him into a wall.

 

* * *

 

_Trent was aware of machines connected to his head..._

_...A woman in pink, with gold hair, looking in his eyes..._

_...A small, warm hand in his..._

_...Day, afternoon, night..._

_...sleep..._

 

* * *

 

Trent woke up feeling like he'd been hit by a truck.

“Morning.” Dr. Oliver said calmly.

Trent almost wanted to attack him, but that would require moving. He groaned instead.

“You have a concussion.” Dr. Oliver responded, coming over to sit in a chair. Trent could see out of the window. There were trees and ocean. It looked pretty, if windy. “Dana was able to get a healer to you before you got any major brain damage.”

“H'wd we get outta there?” Trent slurred.

“I told you I have my dark side.” Dr. Oliver replied. He paused and sighed. “Actually, that's...that's part of this. Can you just listen? I'll let you talk when we're done, but...just listen. Okay?” Trent nodded and winced. Welp, no more head motions for a while. “When I was fifteen, I was turned evil by a sorceress from another planet. She was...like a mother to me. I had to fight her.” Dr. Oliver looked at the ground, his expression stony, hints of pain below it. “I hated her. I hated myself. And when I saw you, I...I remembered who I was under her spell. Remembered all kinds of things. And I...”

Trent waited.

“I hate myself, sometimes.” Dr. Oliver took a breath. “Your father helped me with that. And when we found out, I...it was easier, for me, to be angry at you than at Rita or Anton. So I was.” He looked up at Trent, almost pleading. “I know I was a coward. I made your teammates decide to punish you so I could pretend I was being fair. I pretended not to see it when they were bullying you, because I thought I'd deserved it as a kid. I thought you were a spy because I wanted to be angry at myself in your shoes. I just...” Dr. Oliver sighed. “I'm sorry.”

Damnit.

Trent felt awful now. He remembered the horrible things he'd screamed and he felt ashamed. “N't your f'lt. I w's stupid.” Trent shut his eyes. “My fault.”

“What is?”

Trent blinked, totally confused.

“That's...kind of the problem.” Dr. Oliver said, a hint of sheepish laughter in his voice. “Trent, you don't have to lie to protect family. _That's_ what I was mad about. And I should have focused on that, not on punishing myself.”

“But...Ohana.”

“That's not what it means.” Dr. Oliver smiled, sadly—everyone Trent knew would smile sadly soon—and brushed Trent's hair out of his eyes. “Go to sleep. When we wake up, if you want, we'll all start over. And I'll try to get it right this time.”

“Do...the others want to?”

Dr. Oliver nodded. “We all talked. We should've talked a while ago.” He paused. “I know you have no reason to trust us anymore. But you can. If you want.”

Trent hesitated. Then, carefully, he reached out a hand.

“I want.”


End file.
